Phil Brett tells the story of when Dashiell Hammett faced Senator Joseph McCarthy.

Sixty five years ago, on March 26th 1953, Dashiell Hammett, the famous novelist who was responsible for popularising the hard-boiled private eye novel, faced Senator Joseph McCarthy. For a brief moment in the confrontation, there took place an exchange concerning the possibility of communism in the United States. What led to that frankly surreal moment shows both what the American state will do to protect its rule, and the power which it fears.

By 1953, Hammett was internationally known for his novels such as The Maltese Falcon, which had set the template of the cynical hard-drinking detective (SeeMurder, Mavericks and Marxism for my socialist look at the growth of crime fiction). His writing inspired legions of others, including such luminaries as Raymond Chandler and Ross Macdonald. Many of his stories had been made into Hollywood movies. The 1941 film of the Maltese Falcon, starring Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade, usually appears in best movie lists, and the book figures in literary equivalents. But it wasn't because McCarthy disliked film noir that Hammett was having to defend himself. To find the reason, we perhaps should travel back to the start of the twentieth century.

By then, the United States had grown to a position where it could rival Britain and Germany. Huge corporations were now creating huge wealth, but only for those at the top. With the ever greater demands of profit, came ever greater exploitation. Workers fought back and unionisation grew, but the American federation of trade unions, the American Federation of Labor (AFL) was ill-equipped to lead it, being virtually all male, all white and all skilled. Howard Zinn in A People's History of the United States writes that "Racism was practical for the AFL. The exclusion of women and foreigners was also practical." Theirs was a business unionism, set up to help big business whilst earning fantastic salaries for the officials; divide and rule worked for them. But not for the movement. Mass strikes, such as the 1907 general strike of over ten thousand black and white workers on the New Orleans levees, terrified the bosses. Socialists and anarchists found their ideas gaining an audience. A new union, The Industrial Workers of the World (IWW, also known as the Wobblies) was created to cross racial, gender and sectional lines. It grew massively. The ruling class responded as they always had, and would continue to do, by unleashing terrible violence. Strikers were regularly fired on, such as in 1916 Everett, Washington, when two hundred armed thugs opened fire, leaving five Wobblies dead. It was far from being a one off.

A year later, IWW organiser Frank Little, was kidnapped by vigilantes, tortured and hanged. Strong evidence suggests that the vigilantes were in fact members of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. A member of the Pinkertons at the time was one Samuel Dashiell Hammett. Lillian Hellman, playwright and writer, comrade and partner of his for thirty years, later claimed that Hammett himself had been personally approached to be part of the gang. Her claim has been questioned, but whatever the truth of it, there is no doubt that Little's murder appalled him, and as a Pinkerton he would have witnessed the strike-breaking, infiltration, blackmail and murder which, despite their name, was pretty much the main work of the agency. Seeing at first hand how the state would subcontract out terror made Hammett begin to question the values which he had been brought up with.

By the twenties, the IWW had been destroyed, with many activists dead or in prison, and the Socialist Party was falling apart. In 1924, the Ku Klux Klan had grown to 4.5 million. It looked as if the American ruling class had won, and reaction was on the march. Racism and terror had long been popular mechanisms of oppression, but now there was something new in their tool box of terror - anti-communism. The first Red Scare was launched as a reaction of to the 1917 Russian Revolution, with the state mobilising against the threat. The press joined in, howling against anyone who even vaguely threatened the 'American way of life'. President Woodrow Wilson forced Congress to pass the 1918 Sedition Act, primarily aimed against anarchists. Similar to what we see today, with Donald Trump calling anyone he perceives to be an opponent a snow flake, back then, there was little concern to differentiate between communists, socialists, anarchists, liberals or merely decent human beings. They all were 'reds'.

However, the struggle continued, with mass strikes. Marcus Garvey's message of black pride reached large audiences and the NAACP bravely battled for justice. In 1919, the American Communist Party (CP) was formed. The 1930s depression saw times get even harder, with more workers growing disillusioned with capitalism. The CP had grown to 55,000 by the end of the decade.

Hammett might have left the Pinkertons, but he was using the experience of detection in his writing. His first story was published in the magazine The Smart Set in 1929. The first of his five novels was Red Harvest (1929), which was followed by The Dain Curse (1929), the Maltese Falcon (1930), The Glass Key (1931) and the Thin Man (1934). They brought fame and wealth. However, the effect wasn't to draw him towards capitalism, but quite the opposite.

The 1930s saw him involved in civil rights and anti-fascist activity, joining the American Labor Party and in 1937, the Communist Party. In the main, his support was financial, and lending his name to campaigns. Not that his politics can especially be seen in his writing - there is a constant theme of a corrupt society in them, with many of the cops on the take, but little more than that.

But neither the lack of overt literary socialism, nor the fact that he had served in both world wars, was going to save him from the watchful eye of the red scaremongers. Over time, legislation had been steadily passed against the left. In March 1947 president Truman signed Executive Order 9835 to check the "Americanism" of public employees. It was the legislation which the House Committee on Un-American Activities (HUAC) would use. Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon, says, ""The cheaper the crook, the gaudier the patter." And the crook was certainly cheap here, with Senator McCarthy achieving his moment in history, by conducting several HUAC investigations.

Again, as with today's resident of the White House and purveyor of gaudy Twitter patter, stars in the movie industry were useful targets (see also Peter Frost's article I am Spartacus on blacklisted writer Dalton Trumbo). This was partly because there was anxiety that any liberalism in the arts might help raise awkward questions about society (see my If We Stop Fighting The World Will Diefor an example of how political messages appear in the most mainstream of films). But it was also because the stars' fame could be used to spread the fear - if the state was willing and able to go for the great and good, then the local activist was an easy target. In wielding such power, the ruling class showed their fear, by trying to instil it in others.

Some fought back, including in 1947, a high profile, (and in the history of lobbying, possibly the best-dressed ever) delegation, led by Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. In the same year, Hammett was elected the president of the Civil Rights Congress (CVC) whose role was to fund defences for those arrested for political offences.

Four years later, he was brought before the United Sates attorney for the southern district of New York to disclose who had been aided. Hammett refused. As a result, he was sentenced to six months in jail for contempt. The magazine Hollywood Life caught the OTT hysteria, calling Hammett, "one of the most dangerous (if not THE) influential communists in America".

Then in 1953, he was dragged in front of the HUAC. This time it was to face the charge that 'pro-communist' books had made their way into overseas libraries run by the State Department. Three hundred copies of his books had been found on the shelves of seventy three of its libraries. Fearing that American capital would collapse from Sam Spade's sardonic wit, Dashiell Hammett faced Senator Joe McCarthy.

For most of the hearing, Hammett, like so many others who appeared before the HUAC, pleaded the Fifth Amendment, refusing to answer questions in case they might incriminate him. There is a tradition of socialists using political trials as a platform to argue their cause. Why Hammett and others didn't do this is not clear. Perhaps, the reason is hinted at when one of the Committee questions him as to why he is appearing "before the bar of public opinion". He replies that it was not the 'bar of public opinion' which had sent him to prison for six months - the implication being that it was the state, doing so for political reasons. By the fifties, the left had suffered a series of defeats and confidence was low: taking the Fifth was seen as the only viable tactic. Certainly, Hammett didn't lack moral courage. He'd shown that in the 1947 trial and the fact that he had publicly supported campaigns associated with the CP throughout the Red Scare.

But then McCarthy asked, "Do you believe that the communist system is better than the system in use in this country?" Hammett didn't this time take the Fifth but instead answered, "Well, regardless of what I thought of communism in Russia today, it is doubtful if, you know, any one sort of thing - one is better for one country, and one is better for the other country."

McCarthy, then asked, "You seem to distinguish between Russian communism and American communism. While I cannot see any distinction, I will assume there is for the purpose of the questioning. Would you think that American communism would be a good system to adopt in this country?" Hammett took the Fifth, but then to perhaps McCarthy's surprise, he added that it was a question which could not be answered by a yes or no. McCarthy asked why. "You see," Hammett answered, "I don't understand. Theoretical communism is no form of government. You know, there is no government. And I actually don't know, and I couldn't without - even in the end, I doubt it if I can give a definite answer."

Sensing a chance to trap him, the senator asked if he favoured the adoption of communism in the United States. Hammett didn't take the Fifth but answered no. It wasn't the answer that McCarthy had expected. Hammett explained, "For one thing, it would seem to me impractical, if most people didn't want it."

Maybe McCarthy should have read some of the books he was so intent on banning. If he had, then he might have understood that to achieve communism, Marxists believe that a transitional socialist state is required, you did not jump straight to a communist state. So Hammett was, strictly speaking, not denying his politics. McCarthy just simply did not understand them. In any case, the agent of change was the mass of the working class. The masses in 1953 USA were not in a pre-revolutionary state, so Hammett was being practical. Hammett's testimony couldn't be said to have been a stirring defence of socialism, but he hadn't implicated anybody else, nor fundamentally denied his politics.

The session ended with McCarthy returning to the ostensible reason for his appearance, the stocking of 'communist literature' in state libraries. He asked the author, "If you were in charge of that programme to fight communism, would you purchase the works of some 75 communist authors?" Hammett, replied with a putdown which Sam Spade would have been proud of, "If I were fighting communism, I don't think I would do it by giving people any books at all."

Despite his careful replies, he had done enough to provoke further action against him. He was blacklisted and the FBI spent a lot of time and effort in trying to charge him for tax fraud. Perhaps nothing more was done because Hammett was a sick man, who would not publish anything major again. He become a virtual recluse, living with Hellman until his death in 1961. Even then, he had beaten McCarthy, outliving the senator by four years.

There is no doubt that the American ruling class faced a serious threat to its power in the first half of the twentieth century. It defended itself with brutal violence, intimidation and blacklisting - nothing less than state-sponsored terrorism. The left was smashed. Sixty five years later, with Trump as president, it could be easy to think that McCarthy had won. However, within a decade, the sixties would see a re-emergence of radicalism, with women's, black, gay and anti-Vietnam movements changing American society forever. Even today, with the Uncut, Black Lives Matter and Me Too campaigns, not to mention campaigns against Trump, people still fight for radical ideas in the States. McCarthy would have been apoplectic at the sight of hundreds of thousands of Americans flocking to support Bernie Sanders, a politician proud to call himself a socialist.

The root of Senator Joe McCarthy's fear is still here. And let us also remember that McCarthy's name is now despised, synonymous with witch hunts, whilst Hammett is famous for the creation of a literary genre. Perhaps the words of Sam Spade, his most famous creation, also spoke for him: "I don't mind a reasonable amount of trouble."

In Which No. 45 Once Again Seeks Validation To Dispel The Existential Fear That Gnaws At His Very Soul

by Steve Pottinger

Thursday, 4am. The president wakesReaches, half-conscious, for his phoneUnwilling, untutored, unable to fight.Must! Have! Attention! Now!Punches the keypad over and over

In a desperate, infantile frenzy. Then:Send.

America! The best! My big red button!

Falls back against the pillow, spent,Useless, lost. Needing some kind ofConsolation, he mutters that he’s biglyKing, in his own mind at least. ButWe see the emperor naked, unmanned,Impeachment barrelling relentless down the line.The end will be fast.

It sounds counter-intuitive. How can the ‘Jewish State’ or the Zionist movement be anti-Semitic? But several of US President Donald Trump’s appointments have made it clearer than ever. He leads the most pro-Israel US administration in history, even while appointing key figures with anti-Semitic ties as his most important advisers.

- Asa Winstanley, Memo: Middle-East Monitor

The anti-Semite has chosen hate because hate is a faith; at the outset he has chosen to devalue words and reasons . . . . How futile and frivolous discussions about the rights of the Jew [cf. Palestinian] appear to him . . . . If out of courtesy he consents for a moment to defend his point of view, he lends himself but does not give himself. He tries simply to project his intuitive certainty onto the plane of discourse.

But some will object: what if he is like that only with regard to the Jews [cf. Palestinians]? What if he otherwise conducts himself with good sense? I reply that that is impossible . . . . A man who finds it entirely natural to denounce other men cannot have our conception of humanity; he does not see even those whom he aids in the same light as we do. His generosity, his kindness, are not like our kindness, our generosity. You cannot confine passion to one sphere.

- Jean-Paul Sartre, ‘Anti-Semite and Jew’

(Note: ‘Bibi’ is the nickname, affectionate or otherwise, of Benjamin Netanyahu, the current Prime Minister of Israel.)

My parents spoke of IsraelAs of a Promised Land,A place on which our dreams might dwell,Though not (we'd understand)A dwelling-place since its far spellCould not be known first-handAnd some folk there had been through hellEn route for Haifa’s strand.

Still it remained my soul's ideal, My youthful hope and dream, That magic place-name that would steal Upon me as the theme Of reverie, though a country real Enough for it to seem, In bad times, the one name to heal My wounded self-esteem.

For that, to me, was what it meant, Aside from all the fuss (As then I thought) about those sent Away to clear for us, Or ours, more Lebensraum that lent A God-sent chance to bus Or fly folk in and circumvent Land-claims we'd not discuss.

But then the doubts began to crowd Back in and wake a sense Of what injustices allowed My joy at their expense, Those Palestinians, once a proud And free-born people; whence Their courage to endure unbowed In rightful self-defence.

These five decades, since Israel fought Its war for 'living-space', I've watched the dream go sour and thought Their talk of 'by God's grace' The sort of thing routinely taught When people make a case For causes desperately short Of any moral base.

And now we've evidence, if more Was needed, in the way That Bibi's happy to ignore The bulging dossier With Trump's additions to the store Of handy ways to play The fascist card and give his core Supporters a field-day.

For now I have to count the name Of 'Israel' one we lump, To its and my eternal shame, With that of Donald Trump, An anti-semite who would blame 'The Jews' as soon as plump For Moslems or whoever came In next for the high jump.

And then I think: was Sartre right To say that what we mean By 'Jew', or ought to mean in light Of history, is seen Most clearly in the victim-plight Of everyone who's been Killed, dispossessed, or put to flight By hatred's lie-machine.

So 'anti-semite' would extend Beyond its usual scope To take in haters who depend On 'Jews' to let them cope With categories of foe and friend So stark that they must grope Around for scapegoats fit to lend Their hate-crusade new hope.

For who, I ask you, wants or dares To come straight out and state The chosen-people case: that there's Some type-specific trait, Of grace or shame, that no-one shares Who's not a candidate For marking down as one of theirs Or one they're bound to hate?

So I’m among the dispossessed, An inner exile, though I've only lost the dream that blessed My early years, and so Am now resolved to do my best For those who undergo Such pains as only the oppressed In soul and body know.

Why then should I, deprived of all I once believed in, keep Faith with a state whose actions call For me to take the leap And say I’ve now crossed Bibi’s wall With soul-wounds that go deep Because such late-life Paul-to-Saul Conversions don't come cheap.

Yes, I'm still 'Jewish', but the word Now signifies, for me, Whatever voices can't be heard, Whoever lives unfree, And those whose minds and hearts are stirred By acts we daily see When history’s victims, undeterred By force, seek liberty.

So when they couple 'Zionist' With (what seems quite insane) 'Anti-semitic' I insist That first we ascertain Just what they mean in case we've missed Their point and it's the strain Induced by that mind-wrenching twist Of thought that's most germane.

All praise to those Israelis brave Enough to stay around, Confront the threats, and fight to save The name in which they found, Like me, a source of pride that gave Fresh hope yet runs aground More jarringly with each new wave Of war-planes Gaza-bound.

For now the hate-name 'Arab' rings, On every settler's tongue, With a harsh resonance that brings Back memories fresh sprung, Like 'Jew', said brusquely, which still stings Me now as once it stung Years back, and other hurtful things They'd say when I was young.

And, worse, we have to quell our rage When Trump and Bibi use Our history of victimage As a means to excuse Their choice of some new war to wage, Which makes it seem us Jews Are cast forever as front-page And soul-destroying news.

Yet most of all it's this that drives Me nearly to despair: The thought that Palestinian lives Should be the ones that bear The lethal cost of what arrives Like karma when we dare To reenact a scene that thrives On sufferings elsewhere.

Yet that's the hideous double-bind They'd wish on us, those two Gut-populists who’ve now combined Their forces with a view To ‘common interests’ redefined So as to let them do Whatever gets the mob behind Their demagogic coup.

So if we’re so keen to appease Our ‘ally' Trump, then how Come he and his own allies seize Each chance to re-avow Those sentiments that show that he's, Like them, one who'd allow A pogrom-blitz if that would please His followers right now.

So – pray forgive me if I rub The lesson in too hard – What price our entry to the club Of players with Trump card If, from now on, we have to grub Around for such ill-starred Alliances as earn a snub Even in our backyard?

Why then rebuke me when I stake My faith on it that we've A duty now, as Jews, to take Our conscientious leave Of any creed that, for the sake Of striving to achieve The New Jerusalem, would make Us prone to self-deceive.

For there's no telling just how far This grim charade might run Before it hits a credence-bar When we'll at last have done With any rule that says we are Required to honour none But tales of faith that may now jar No matter how they're spun.

You find me now, I must confess, A man of darker mood And one perhaps too keen to stress These things on which I brood Incessantly, though hoping less For some new certitude Than for some way to dispossess Myself of hopes renewed.

It's when I think again of that Embrace so warmly shared Between the fascist plutocrat And Bibi, aptly paired As they may be, that I feel flat- Out thankful to be spared All last pretence of aiming at The moral circle squared.

For who could make-believe the dream Lives on now Israel's made Its Faustian pact with Trump's regime And bolstered the parade Of those whose latest master-scheme, Once all the plans are laid, Leaves no place on the winning team For their back-up brigade?

It is the morning after Donald Trump was elected president of the United States and I am at my machine and I grip my machine’s handlewith my palmthe steel handle is still solid and hardagainst my soft flesha racist hate-filled egomaniac dictatorial sexual predator swindler infant elected to lead310 million peopleand I turn the handle to my machine and my machine table moves exactly 100 thousandths of an inch I want to believe that a thousandth of an inch is still a thousandth of an inchrivers flow downhilla dinosaur boneis 65 million years old he who lives by the sword shall die by the sword but Donald Trumpwill soon have his finger on the nuclear trigger and Nero fiddledwhile Rome burned and I put on my leather gloves and graba 50-pound block of 4130 steel and drop itinto my vise bolted to my milling machine table and send the carbide teeth of a shell mill plowing through the raw steelI want to believe when ice melts it still turns into waterLady Macbethstill can’t wash those drops of blood off her handI want to believe Christ and Buddhaknew somethingBeethoven’sMoonlight Sonata is still beautiful rosesstill open train wheelsstill can’t roll without the hands of men like mewho make themI plant my feet on this concrete machine shop floorsurely the mockingbird has not forgotten how to singsurely a human being still knowsright from wrong surelythe sun still rises steel is still hard and men like Trump fallin the endsure as my hammerhead ringing out when I strike itagainst steelsure as Victor Hugo’s statueNelson Mandela’s heartthe cat sitting in the sun on your windowsillthe sweat on the back of every workingman on earthand the stars still there shiningin the sky.

Fred Voss's latest collection, The Earth and the Stars in the Palm of Our Hand, is published by Culture Matters and is available from http://manifestopress.org.uk/